


Fools, The Both Of Us

by waterparkjunheepark



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, I'm Sorry, M/M, Someone dies, This is really sad, Unrequited Love, keonhee my child i'm so sorry, maybe fluff?, read to know who lmao, the others are mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26003971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterparkjunheepark/pseuds/waterparkjunheepark
Summary: He wonders as he traces the patterns in the ceiling with his eyes, if there was a universe where he could've loved him too.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Fools, The Both Of Us

**Author's Note:**

> bring tissues, I guess?

Hwanwoong wonders as he traces the patterns in the ceiling with his eyes, if there was a universe where he could've loved him too.

Hanahaki.

His love for Youngjo doesn't just pop out of nowhere, it does not suddenly strike him like fairytales describe, where with one gaze, he falls into those eyes. It's slow, gradual. It seeds from a wandering thought of "his eyes look pretty", sprouts to a "his laugh sounds like music", blooms to a "what would it be like to wake up next to him?", then becomes a "I think I'd love to spend my life with him".

He lets out a sigh, resting his arm over his eyes. "This is too troublesome," he grumbles under his breath, crinkling his nose when he smells the sharp tang of blood in his mouth that he hasn't bothered to wash away yet.

'Why did I have to fall in love with him, of all people?'

He feels something itch in his chest, so he leans over the edge of his bed to heave into a bucket already filled with petals he'd thrown up in the past hours. Crimson sticks out amongst the pink and white petals, mingling with the red and painting a beautiful picture.

When he'd first looked up the flower that came from his lungs, he couldn't help but chuckle. Geranium. Meaning foolishness and stupidity. It seemed that fate had decided to make fun of him one last time for being so foolish as to fall for someone he'd no possibilities of being with. But hey, he'd found out it also meant determination. Maybe fate chose to applaud him for that one characteristic of his, to lift up his mood while they slowly suffocated him.

He coughs into the bucket, more petals falling and blotches of red decorating the tragic picture. He stays there, coughing and heaving for what seemed like an eternity until his lungs ran out of petals for the meantime. He is left weak, all energy drained just from that coughing fit.

The golden glow of the nearing sunset infiltrates his room though his windows, painting his room a beautiful color, giving life to a still scene.

The sound of his own heartbeat lulls him to sleep and the day fades into another.

...

 _4:39_ _a._ _m._

He finally pries his eyes open after being woken up by his lungs making more petals. He sees his clock on the table by his bed, the white light of the numbers illuminating the dark room.

 _Fuck,_ _I_ _fell_ _asleep_ _t_ o _o_ _early_ _yesterday._

He lifts his body into a sitting position with difficulty, arms weak and head throbbing. Prying the blankets off of himself, he finds the ground with his feet and slowly stands up. He stumbles his way into the kitchen, switching on the lights in the process where he winces when the sudden change in lighting burns his eyes.

He reaches into the cupboards, looking for something to fill his stomach while he hacks up his lungs with the the petals growing in them. He finds some cereal, so he peeks into the refrigerator for some milk to go along with it. He prepares himself a meal, if it could even be called that. There, in his kitchen, he sits by the counter, staring into nothingness and running to the trash can whenever he feels more petals coming up for air. _But,_ he realizes, _they_ _aren't_ _just_ _petals_ _anymore._ _They're_ _whole_ _flowers._ He chuckles to himself, resigned to his fate.

He takes his phone from his bedroom, then goes back to the kitchen to finish his sad breakfast. He wastes his time there, scrolling through social media for hours until the sun comes up and the noise outside his building starts getting louder, the city slowly waking up. He looks at the time, then makes a decision to call Keonhee and spend some time with him before the flowers fill up his lungs entirely and choke him with all their tenderness. It takes a few rings before Keonhee picks up, obviously just having woken up judging from his throaty voice.

"Hello?" Keonhee asks from the other side of the phone, rustling of sheets clear through the speakers.

"Hyung, do you want to hang out with me later here in my apartment? I'm bored and I have something to tell you." Hwanwoong states, going round and round his bowl with his spoon, a small smile on his face. Keonhee makes an audible gasp, obviously delighted with the offer.

"Really? I'm going to be there in like," a pause, "an hour. I still have to tidy up my room and shower a bit. Come to think of it, you haven't been spending time with us lately. Are you sick? Do I need to being soup and medicine? Are you hiding something? Oh!" Keonhee exclaims, a little giggly, "or maybe you finally have a boyfriend and you want to introduce him to us. Hold on, I'll call Youngjo-hyung to tell him of this great news, I bet he'll-"

"No!" Hwanwoong almost shouts. He realizes that it was unnecessary and regains his bearings. "No, just you. I have something to tell you."

"O...kay?" Keonhee agrees, albeit skeptical. There is a question in his tone, but he agrees, nonetheless.

"Yeah..." Awkward silence fills the line, Hwanwoong licks his lips in nervousness.

"See you in an hour then, I guess? I'll be there before you know it."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

Hwanwoong sighs as he ends the call, feeling an incoming headache brought by his lack of meals for the past thirty? thirty five? hours. However, another itch, almost a painful prick, blooms in his lungs and his headache is pushed to the back of his head in favour of leaning over the trash can to relieve his chest of the wretched flowers.

...

"I'm here!" Keonhee sings cheerily as he steps into Hwanwoong's apartment. He has brought some bags with him, hanging from his arms by his side as he closes the door after himself. Hwanwoong, from his position on the couch, strains his head upwards to look at his long-time friend, flopping back down after a simple, mumbled 'hi'.

Keonhee's brows immediately furrow, sensing something wrong with the normally cheerful man. He strides his way over to the living room where he places the bags down on the low table in the center of the room.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He frowns, placing a hand against the other's forehead. When he feels that his temperature is normal, he frowns some more studies Hwanwoong's body from head to toe with his eyes. Hwanwoong, tired of the intense gazing, sighs and tilts his chin to the direction of the bucket on the floor near his head. Keonhee gasps, hands flying to his mouth in shock.

"Woong..." He whispers gravely. Hwanwoong only smiles bitterly as a response, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. He's been staring at the ceiling a lot, he noticed.

Hwanwoong's illness wasn't rare in this world, but not so common that nearly half of the world suffered from it. He has a cousin who had the same illness maybe a decade ago? He didn't know. She had the petals surgically removed, along with her feelings for the boy she'd loved. That was rather brave of her, Hanwoong concluded. She had been willing to give up her love in order to live longer. In Hwanwoong's case, he wasn't. He wasn't brave enough to keep going on if it meant that he'd lose that fluttery feeling inside his chest. Maybe it was love, maybe it was just the petals tickling him, but he didn't want to lose that feeling. Besides, with both his parents gone from overworking themselves, he didn't have anyone with him anymore. Well, perhaps there was Keonhee, his best friend since elementary, or Youngjo, his friend-slash-crush, or Seoho, his other friend who'd gone to a different city to follow his dream of becoming a scientist, or maybe Geonhak who taught at a nearby kindergarten and spent all of his free days working out, or maybe Dongju who was still in university, studying to become a doctor.

On second thought, he had many people who he could live for, but nothing would change his mind. It was selfish, he knew, but couldn't he have at least one thing to himself? He'd always lived his life helping other people and sacrificing everything for them; his time, his money, his strength- couldn't he have one last thing thing to himself? Was that too selfish of him to ask? _Whatever,_ he decides. _I_ _won't_ _remove_ _the_ _flowers._ _Where_ _would_ _I_ _get_ _the_ _money_ _for_ _the_ _surgery_ _from,_ _anyway?_

He meets Keonhee's eyes, smiles.

"Play Beauty and the Beast, will you?"

...

A few days pass, both Keonhee and Hwanwoong's time spent in the latter's apartment playing games, watching movies, making memories. It's almost sad how Hwanwoong only was able to top in the games' leaderboards when he was ready to let go.

...

"Keonhee, it hurts," Hwanwoong cries in a white hospital room as he swallows the bitter taste of petals and blood in his mouth. "It hurts so bad."

"Shh, I know," Keonhee whispers as he holds Hwanwoong's hand. "Everything's gonna be okay." _Lies._

Coughing up another flower painted with blood, Hwanwoong decides that he hates the taste of flowers. But hey, at least he was going to die smelling of fresh flowers?

The doctors stand back, giving respect to the two not-brothers as they cherish their last moment together.

Hwanwoong stares blankly ahead, a few minutes of silence in the bland room. His mouth suddenly quirks up in a small smile, finding humour even in such a tragic moment.

"Can you play music? This room's so boring that it's killing me." He spares a glance to Keonhee, eyes crinkling at the edges. "Do you know that song that goes 'the egg is here~' by M.A.S? Onewe? Dongmyeong's band? Yeah, that one, I could totally dance to that right now."

"You can't even sit up properly, how are you going to dance?" Keonhee questions.

"Hey, I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of kicking your ass right now!" Hwanwoong counters, lifting an accusatory finger to point at his friend.

Keonhee chuckles, but gives no response.

They sit in silence, only broken by the coughing and wheezing of Hwanwoong.

"Keonhee, wanna see a magic trick?" Hwanwoong says, but his voice is weird, muffled.

"Sure," Keonhee takes up the offer, only to regret it when Hwanwoong pulls out a stem of geranium with a few flowers attached to one of its ends.

"Gross. What the actual heck, Hwanwoong?"

The other man bursts into peals of laughter, bright and genuine. It's a pity that it's but short by another cough.

They sit in silence again, comfortable, tense, gloomy, light.

"Tell our other friends to take care, okay? Don't miss me too much because I'm gonna miss you all enough for all the six of us."

"Sure, Woong."

A flatline.  
  


"I miss you already."

...

It's been a more than a year since Hwanwoong's death. Youngjo still hasn't found anyone worth loving more than Hwanwoong. It kills him to remember that Hwanwoong isn't here anymore, and he hears parts of his heart crack whenever he sees something that reminds him of Hwanwoong, whenever he sees reminders of Hwanwoong scattered in his apartment, in his routines, in his lifestyles.

He'd tried moving on, it didn't work. It only served as a painful reminder that no one would smile like Hwanwoong, no one would laugh like Hwanwoong, no one would light up his life like Woong, no one would be _his_ _precious_ _Woong._

It hurt like a bitch, finally realizing his feeling for the other man, only to be slapped by the news that he was _dead._ His Woong, gone just like that. Keonhee said it was because of the illness that made people cough up flowers when in an unrequited love, of sorts. Oh, what Youngjo would not give to be the one Hwanwoong loved. That man must have been a fool to not love Hwanwoong back.

 _It doesn't matter,_ Youngjo thinks. _It's not like I'll be able to bring him back to life anyway._

So he turns, away from the grave, back into the life where Hwanwoong is not by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> link I took the flower's meaning from:
> 
> https://www.thehypertufagardener.com/5-flowers-symbolize/
> 
> i listened to the song 'wait for it' from the musical 'hamilton' bc it gets me really sad and i needed to get the sad vibes to continue writing this fic.  
> 
> 
> I had this thought that dongju's shift as a medical student starts right after woong's death and as he enters, he's greeted by the sight of hwanwoong lying dead surrounded by pretty flowers and blood and keonhee crying. pAIN. also, i was planning on killing off both hwanwoong and youngjo in this fic but i thought 'hey, keonhee'll be too sad losing two of his bestfriends' so i made youngjo suffer instead :D  
> 


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